


Changing the Course of the Future

by MorinoAthame



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adopted Siblings to Lovers, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorinoAthame/pseuds/MorinoAthame
Summary: It had been and would always be the two of them against the world. He'd nearly lost her once, when they were children. They'd been close but he'd not known then just how much she'd come to mean to him. Even as an adult, he doesn't realize the depths to which he cares. Seeing Eivor brought down in battle does something to Sigurd. Memories flood back and obsession sets in. He'll make sure she's well, and he'll make sure they aren't parted. Even if there's a stretch of sea they must cross and a country on the other side to tame.
Relationships: Eivor/Sigurd Styrbjornson, Randvi/Sigurd Styrbjornson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 84





	Changing the Course of the Future

**Author's Note:**

> Little worried this feels rushed, but it's been sitting on docs for a couple weeks now. (There are so many stories sitting on docs right now...) I wanted to go ahead and get the start of it up so I can be spurred on to write more to it.

It had happened unexpectedly. They had been on their way back to Fornburg to prepare for their exit from Norway and King Harald’s rule. An ambush, men that had been loyal to Kjotve, coming from the bushes and boulders around them; it wasn’t something they hadn’t faced a dozen times or more. Sigurd thought nothing of it as he cut men down, making sport of them, until he heard Hytham call out Eivor’s name in warning. 

He’d lost sight of her in the battle, not unusual given how she moved through and around the enemy like a darting bee most of the time. Slicing one man’s head from his shoulders, Sigurd spun toward where he’d heard Hytham’s voice and time seemed to slow down. 

Eivor stumbled back from her attacker, hand automatically grasping hold of the blade that pierced her side. It was a small thing, nor more than a boot knife, but the area was a dangerous one to have any sort of puncture. Blood was already welling up around her fingers as she fell back on the ground. 

Basim was close enough to take down the man who had stabbed Eivor, standing over her protectively as Hytham tried to do what he could for her. 

With a roar, Sigurd threw himself at their enemy, cutting a wide swath through them with the single minded determination to get to Eivor’s side. He fell onto his knees at her side, trusting Basim to have his back as he pressed his hand over Eivor’s, where it lay bloody on her chest, moved by Hytham so he could try to tend the wound. “No, no, no.” His free hand rested on her head. “Hang on, Eivor.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “We’ll get you back home, everything will be alright.” He told himself it couldn’t have gone too deep, it was only a dagger and she had on thick layers. 

“S… Sigurd.” She reached up to him, and he was reminded of finding her on the ice all those many winters ago, bleeding from the bite to her neck and clutching a bloody axe in her hand. She was pale, though she couldn’t have lost that much blood, but with it seeping into the snow he couldn’t save for certain. 

“Hush.” He caught her hand in his. “Save your strength. Odin won’t have you yet.” He couldn’t imagine life without her laugh and fierce love for their people and life as a whole. Her ruckus nature when she’d had too many horns, or her clever wit and sharp tongue. He’d missed those things, missed her by his side for two years. He had vowed to himself never again, and this was no way for someone like Eivor to die.

“They’re all dead, Sigurd,” Basim spoke up. “We should get her to a healer.” 

“I have done what I can for her, but she needs a more experienced hand than mine.” Hytham agreed, his hands covered in Eivor’s blood. It was so red against the snow and Hythams clothing.

Quickly and as gently as he could, he swung her up in his arms. A whistle called his horse to him, as well as Eivor’s, who sniffed at her gently. He ignored her horse and placed the injured woman on his own, swinging up behind her so that he could keep her steady and make sure she kept breathing. 

The ride home seemed to take forever. He moved as quickly as he dared, ignoring the pained hisses and moans coming from Eivor as much as he could. If he didn’t get her back swiftly, it would be too late once they arrived. He thanked Njord the seas were calm. 

When they finally did arrive in Fornburg, he had to hand her off to Dag, who looked up at him with a measure of surprise. “Send for the healer,” Sigurd’s voice carried to those around them. “I need everyone in the longhouse, spread the word.” He jumped from his horse and took Eivor back from Dag, rushing toward the longhouse, his long legs eating up the distance. “And fetch Valka!”

Many of the warriors and villagers followed after them, Dag picking a man to fetch the healer. Another he sent to get Valka. “What happened, Sigurd?” He asked as he walked briskly to keep up with the taller man.

“We were ambushed on our way back from Harald’s.” He answered, making way for the room he shared with Randvi. The bed there was soft and private enough. 

“I should not have left you.” Dag growled. “I knew her blind need for revenge was going to get someone killed.” He sounded annoyed, though if it was at himself or Eivor, Sigurd wasn’t sure. 

“She is not dead yet,” he snapped at the other man, feet carrying him faster. He would not listen to Dag disparage Eivor, not in that moment, and he’d not consider her demise, either. Once to his destination, he gently rested Eivor down and brushed a hand over her forehead. “Hang on, Eivor.” 

She struggled to open her eyes and reached for him weakly. “Sig… Sigurd.” 

He caught her hand and held it tightly. “I’m right here, Eivor. I will not leave you.” He rested her hand down on the bed and began to remove her armor so they could see the wound. The puncture wasn’t too long or wide, but it was deep and wept blood in a steady flow. He pressed the fabric Hytham had packed over it back down and held it there firmly.

It was not long that the healer arrived, shooing Sigurd to the side and uncovering the wound. He sniffed the blood on the fabric and scrutinized it before licking the side of his finger that had come in contact with fresh blood from the wound. “I do not think anything was punctured that will not heal.” He reached for the basket he’d carried inside with him. “I will clean and bind the wound, we will observe from there. She will need specific foods and care.” 

“Anything,” he immediately spoke. 

The healer gave a small nod. “Your people wait for you. Leave me to my work.” 

He thought to argue, but the man was right. He had sent for everyone. They needed to know what had happened, what his father had done. They needed to know that he was leaving for England and they were free to join him. He expected most of them would do so, but there were some that were loyal to Styrbjorn.

Most of the clan was in agreement to leave Norway. As soon as they’d gone off to make ready, Sigurd turned to his wife. “I need you to keep everyone on track and see to our things and Eivor’s.”

She looked at him steadily. “And what will our jarl be doing?” 

He looked toward their room, where Eivor lay. He wanted to be by her side. He had promised not to leave her, but Randvi had asked the question for a reason. He has a duty to his people. “I will be helping with the heavy lifting, once I check on Eivor.” 

“How serious is her injury?” She dropped her gaze to his clothes and hands, covered in blood. 

“She has lost a lot of blood. The healer believes she can heal, it will simply take time.” He lifted his hands to look at them. He flashed back to her blood on the snow then to her blood on the ice. “It has stirred unpleasant memories, but Eivor is strong. Odin will not claim her.” 

Randvi put her hands over his. “You are right.” She offered him a small smile as she squeezed his hands. “But what of the move, Sigurd. If she is so injured, how can we take her with us?” 

He jerked his hands away from hers. “She will be on the longship. I will not leave her behind.” He said, voice harsh. How could she even suggest such a thing.

Randvi shook her head. “I mean only that she might not survive the voyage as things are. If the injury is so bad…”

“She is leaving with us. That is final!” He snapped at her as he cut his hand through the air. He then marched off to check on Eivor. He was not leaving her behind, not again, not like this. He’d helped nurse her to health before, and he didn’t like the idea of leaving it to someone else even if he logically knew the situations were drastically different. 

She’d been so quiet and sullen, so lost and broken then. He’d had to fight to bring a smile, act a fool to get her to laugh, and go so far as to sing to get her to eat. Yes, she had grown into a strong and capable adult who wouldn’t need those things, but he couldn’t help the need he felt to be by her side making sure every step of the way that she was doing well and would mend. 

“How is she?” He asked as he rejoined the healer.

“The bleeding has slowed.” The healer looked up at him. “Now it is a matter of time and care.” 

He gave a nod. “We leave for England. She needs to be ready for the voyage.” 

“Sigurd, she needs to have regular teas and broth, meat once she’s awake enough to eat it. She needs rest and calm. Crossing the sea…” 

Sigurd grit his teeth. “I  _ know _ , but I see no other choice!” He would not leave her behind. He’d seen the way it nearly broke her when he’d left her there before sailing east. And then she’d been hale and whole. This would be worse on her, on him. He just knew it.

The healer observed him then looked to Eivor. He took a moment to speak. “I will need to stay with her. I’ll prepare what I’ll need.” 

“Anything I can do, anything you need, it is yours.” 

“I will let you know.” He checked the wrapping around Eivor then left the room with a shake of his head.

Sigurd knelt down and took her hand. He rubbed the back of it with his thumb. She gripped back weakly. “Shhh. Rest.” He soothed, stroking a hand over her hair. 

“Water,” she said softly, voice cracking, and licked her lips. Her eyes remained closed but her face turned toward him. 

He reached for the waterskin the healer had left, holding it to her lips with one hand and propping her head up with the other. “Slowly,” he told her. He recalled doing this same thing when they were young and she was fevered after the wolf attack. She’d been so small, seemed so frail then. Now, she was a strong, formidable drengr, but he felt just as much need to be careful and tender with her. 

She drank slow, taking in several mouthfuls. When she pulled back, she put a hand to her side and sighed. “You should be preparing to leave,” she continued to speak softly, like it took effort to force the air out. 

“I am going to check with Gunnar as soon as I leave here, but you must rest first.” 

Eivor gave a slight shake of her head. “Go.” She shifted and winced. “I am not dying this moment.” 

“Nor any moment soon.” His tone came out commanding. 

She gave a faint chuckle. “Aye. As you command, Brother, always.” 

He leaned over and rested his brow to hers briefly. Then he stood and left her to rest, though he did ask Valka to check on her to see if there was more besides what the healer had done that could help. And he asked Hytham, who had his own injury to consider, to sit with her. The younger man was well enough to help her if she needed it, and she’d not need anything that would strain him. If something unforeseen did occur, he could call out, there’d be someone near enough at hand to go to their aid.


End file.
